Chapter 8
eight
DAVIS
Vodka burns its way down my throat as I stare at Lucas across the living room. Every part of me is on fire, every part of me wants to walk over to him and punch him in the fucking face.
This is probably how he felt that day Claire came to find me in the rain…
When my Little Pixie walked into the house with him, laughing and smiling, I felt nothing less than a heavy rage.
That deep husky laugh of hers is for me, and me only.
I’ve never heard her laugh for anyone else before, and maybe it’s selfish, but I wanted to keep it that way forever.
I wanted to be the only one to make her smile, to see those dark red lips part and turn upwards.
“Johnny,” Sasha says, placing a soft hand on mine. “Is everything alright?”
Those grey eyes stare up at me, and every ounce of anger I was feeling just floats away. I smile down at her, feeling the alcohol hit my system at the same time. “Yes, Pixie, everything is alright.”
Telling her how angry I was when I saw her walk into the house earlier would be the worst idea ever. I don’t want to scare her off. I don’t want to have her ripped away from me when I just got her.
I don’t know how, but whenever I’m with her, an overwhelming sense of peace and quiet seems to take over. She grounds me in a way I’ve never experienced before.
She turns back towards the party, silently watching everyone, while I rake my gaze up and down her body.
Tight black jeans with rips in the knees, and a cropped Livler University t-shirt with a jean jacket over top. The shirt is so cropped, you can see the tip of the dagger that sits between her tits poking out the bottom.
It’s taken everything in me not to throw her over my shoulder and drag her ass up to my room. Not only because I want to see what lies beneath those clothes, but also to keep other guys from noticing her.
Luckily, everyone seems to be preoccupied and no one’s made a move on her… yet.
I feel bad for any poor sap who decides to approach her.
Maybe it’s the liquor, or maybe it’s some residual anger from seeing her walk in with Lucas earlier, but I make a snap decision and step behind her. My arms wrap around her shoulders, while my head rests atop hers.
She stiffens for a second before accepting my dominating touch, “people are gonna get the wrong idea, Johnny.”
“And what’s that?” I ask her, my voice filled with gravel as her ass presses into me.
She twists, angling her head up to look at me, “that we’re more than friends.”
Good, let them think that. Let them think she’s mine, because she is. Whether Sasha Price knows it or not, she’s been mine for a very long time…
Three years ago
My professor goes on and on about the psychology of gaming at the front of the lecture hall, every word he says going in one ear and out the other.
I can go back and watch the recorded version of the lecture later.
For now? I’m drinking in every ounce of Sasha Price that I can get.
Don’t get me wrong, I love video games and this class is actually super interesting, but I’d be lying if I said my choice in courses wasn’t because of the dark-haired girl sitting a couple of rows in front of me.
I’m all too aware of every little movement she makes, watching the back of her head like if I stare hard enough, she’ll turn around and notice me.
But of course, she’s focused on anything but me.
Ever since that first day on campus, I’ve been completely enamoured with her. I feel a little creepy sometimes, but I can’t help it, she’s just so fucking interesting and perfect that I need to see her.
I need her near me.
There’s this weird pull in my chest when she walks past me or sits close. It’s like the universe is telling me that she’s meant to be in my life.
I wish I had the balls to talk to her, but every time I think I’m actually going to do it, I lose all the courage I built up.
She’s quiet, almost never talks to anyone, and she’s always walking everywhere alone. I saw her get into a car right after class one time, a dude was in the driver’s seat. I tried to get a good look at him, but they drove off before I got the chance.
That shit bothered the hell out of me.
Who was he?
Was he a boyfriend? A brother?
Did he love her like I would?
I’d probably never get the answer to my question, but that’s okay, just having her near is good enough for me.
At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself.
When the lecture ends, the class starts filing out through the double doors, but Sasha goes up to the front of the class, leaving her bag on her seat.
I wonder for a moment if I should wait, but the thought of her laughing in my face and rejecting me is almost too much.
So I leave, allowing my mind to drift to another world where I did walk up to her.
My lips slide into an easy grin, “we could be, you know… more than friends.” I regret the words the second they leave my mouth, because all she does is stare at me with a blank expression.
There’s nothing, no hint of whether she likes the idea of that or not, so I backpedal as quickly as I can. “Or not,” I laugh.
She settles into my touch, wrapping her arms around mine and observes the chaos around us. “So this is what I’ve been missing out on for all these years,” she mumbles, more to herself than anything.
I settle my chin into the crook of her neck, growing bolder by the second, even though I know this can only end poorly for me. “Good thing you won’t be missing out on it anymore, Little Pixie,” I whisper.
She shivers as my breath hits her ear, but when she shoves her hands in her pockets, she goes deathly still. A small gasp leaves her lips before she darts off to the bathroom and slams the door shut so aggressively that I can hear it over the loud music.
A smirk tips my lips, and I lean back against the counter, waiting for her to come back out.
The party died about half an hour ago, but I barely noticed because I’ve been so wrapped up in my conversation with Sasha. We haven’t left the kitchen all night, and based on my friends’ curious glances as they walked upstairs, I know they could tell something’s up.
It takes another hour of us talking before she notices the time and tells me that she should probably go home.
“Thank you— for tonight, I mean,” she smiles, walking towards the front door.
I shrug, “I didn’t do much, I kinda stole you away for the whole night. I’m sorry you didn’t really get to enjoy the party.”
She stops before reaching the door and brushes her hair behind her ears, revealing those beautifully high cheekbones. “I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.”
My heart hammers in my chest, and I search for any reason to keep her here longer. I don’t want her to leave, I don’t want to face the darkness of my room, and I don’t want to fall asleep alone.
“Do you have a safe ride home?” I ask, not seeing a car outside waiting for her.
She shakes her head and averts her eyes, “I’m just going to walk, I like the fresh air.”
Walk? At three in the god damn morning? I don’t fucking think so.
I pull my phone out of my pocket, “not a chance. It’s way too late for you to walk, I’m gonna order you a car.”
“No!” She yells, pulling my phone out of my hand. She seems to startle at her own reaction, going red in the face with wide eyes before she blows out a deep breath. “Sorry, I just-“ she straightens her shoulders, “I’m okay, really, I’ve walked it a hundred times.”
I narrow my eyes at her, “not happening, Pixie.”
Before I have the chance to think about what I’m doing, I throw her over my shoulder —like I’ve wanted to do all night— and head towards the stairs.
A startled gasp escapes her lips before she starts laughing and gently hitting my back. “Johnny, where are we going?” She squeals.
I don’t bother with an explanation, knowing she’ll only protest the idea of sleeping in my bed. My stomach warms at the thought, knowing that whether she lets me sleep with her or not, she’ll be in my bed.
One arm lays across her calves, while my other hand rests on her ass, holding her in place so I can make sure she doesn’t fall face-first onto the hardwood. I try to ignore how her ass feels beneath my fingers, praying that my dick plays nice and doesn’t decide to harden right here and now.
You’ve touched many girls before, I tell myself, this doesn’t mean anything.
Her giggles continue to float through the air as I walk upstairs, and when we finally make it to my room, I plant her ass on my bed and grab a t-shirt from my closet.
She just stares at me with wide eyes when I return and throw it towards her. It almost lands directly on her face, but she catches it. “Why?” She asks.
My fists clench at my sides, the thought of her walking home in the dark —completely alone— is enough to drive me mad, let alone the thought that she’s been doing it for who knows how long.
“Because,” I growl, “it’s not safe for you to be out there alone this late. Now put on the damn shirt.”
There’s a look of defiance in her eyes, but she doesn’t say anything. After a beat of silence, whatever she was feeling fades into something… softer. Something raw.
Sasha pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, and I take that as my cue to leave.
“I’ll be downstairs on the couch if you need anything.” I grab a pillow off my bed and turn towards the door, a heavy feeling filling my stomach as I do so.
“Would it-“ she pauses for a moment, and I turn to look at her. She’s got my t-shirt held tight in her hands, “would it be so bad if you stayed with me?”
Jesus Christ.
That damn look in her eyes just about breaks my damn heart. She looks like a kicked puppy, and I can’t tell whether it’s because of me or not.
“I don’t like being alone, it—“ she doesn’t finish her sentence.
It’s like everything you’ve ever feared crawls up your spine and takes a chunk out of your heart.
I know the feeling, and after a couple more seconds of trying to decode the look in her eyes, I realize it’s fear.
She’s scared to be alone.
I give her a soft smile. Not a cocky or teasing grin, but something that tells her I understand without either of us having to voice the feeling. “Whatever you want, Pixie,” I tell her softly.
Her shoulders sag in relief, and that look I never want to see on her face again fades. She melts back into the girl I’ve grown to know, the girl who is smart and funny and secretly really sassy.
It’s the Sasha I’ve grown to love.
And even though I don’t have the balls to tell her, I’ve grown comfortable with the feeling.
She darts off to the bathroom down the hall, living up to the nickname I’ve given her.
I pull off my hoodie, throwing it to the floor before I swap out my jeans for a pair of sweats. I usually like to sleep in boxers, I overheat in anything more than that, but I’ll do it if it means she feels comfortable.
Crawling into bed, I try to tame the nerves firing in every inch of my body. I have to play it cool, I can’t fuck this up.
When Sasha returns, I have to hold back a groan at the sight of her. That long Livler athletics shirt hits just above her mid-thighs, the black panties she has on peak out when she turns around to throw her clothes on my dresser.
Her fucking ass is a dream, better than I could have ever imagined. Full and soft.
She crawls into bed next to me, and I pray to god that she doesn’t notice the raging hard-on I’m sporting. Luckily, when she lays down, she turns to face me.
We look at one another for a long while, the tension building with every moment that passes.
“My brother used to sleep with his TV on,” she says, breaking the silence. “He hated how quiet the world was when night came and everyone was asleep.”
This is the first time she’s talked to me about him. I didn’t know him well, only from playing on rival teams, but he always seemed like a cool dude. I would have never guessed he was like me in that way.
She brushes her fingers across my forehead, moving the pieces of hair that had fallen into my face.
“I never really understood how he felt. I mean, I understood the loneliness, but mine was different. I knew what he was going through. I was probably the only person who really saw the pain he was in, but every day he would wake up with a smile on his face and make people laugh.”
I hold my breath, trying to stay still as she speaks about him. This has to be hard for her. I can’t even imagine what it would feel like to lose a sibling, the closest thing I can think of is losing one of the guys.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, playing with the dark strands mindlessly, but never taking her eyes off mine.
“When I—“ she stops for a second, tears slowly welling in her eyes. “When I lost him, I finally understood the kind of quiet he always talked about. He was always the life of the party, and I was always the quiet loner with no friends, so I thought I knew what he was talking about, but I didn’t. It’s suffocating, and all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around him and tell him that everything was going to be okay, that I finally understood. But by then it was too late.”
Depression. Not quiet, or silence… but depression.
I let my hand drift to her cheek, brushing away the tear that slowly slides down her face.
Seeing her like this breaks something inside me I didn’t know could break.
I watched Claire suffer, I watched her cry, but it didn’t feel like this.
When I see those tears in Sasha’s eyes, I feel like the world around me is crumbling, like life itself is being ripped out of my chest.
She closes her eyes, letting more tears break through the wall she was trying so hard to keep up. When she opens them again, she looks like a little girl. A little girl who wants nothing more than for someone to comfort her.
So I do, I leave my hand resting on her cheek, rubbing my thumb in little circles, giving her what she won’t ask for.
“J was always my rock.” She smiles sadly, “he would have liked you.”
Jesus Christ. This girl is ripping my heart out.
“Sasha,” I breathe, “you know you don’t have to go through all of this alone anymore, right?”
She pulls her hand from my hair and places it over the one I have on her face, “and that, Johnny Davis, is why I don’t know what to do with you.”
I let her words sink in as she slowly drifts off to sleep, analyzing every last part of them while I watch the tears dry, while I watch her chest rise in a steady rhythm.
This girl is something else, and from now on, whenever she’s here late, she’ll stay with me. She will never walk home alone again. She has a home here with me.